What If
by JeminiaMoon
Summary: A drabble series of what ifs in HP. Disclaimer that I forgot to put in the story: I am not J. K. Rowling, therefore I do not own Harry Potter and related plots, characters, and situations.
1. It was Neville?

**Enjoy the story! If you review enough, I might make a sequel! **

_What if…it had been Neville?_

Frank looked in horror at the figure looming above him. In just seconds, he knew, he would be the next victim of Voldemort's Killing Curse. He struggled against the invisible ropes binding him, painfully turning his head to whisper in his wife's ear:

"_Alice…I love you…may our son…be safe…"_

There was a flash of blinding green light and two lives, but not three, were extinguished on that fateful day.

Hours later Augusta Longbottom trampled through the remains of her son and daughter-in-law's house. It seemed unrealistic, that Frank and Alice had been subdued and killed by the Dark Lord; the house smashed to bits for good measure…and their newborn son…Augusta couldn't bear to think of it.

Carefully avoiding a tangle of timber and plaster, Augusta stopped in her tracks. _I thought I heard…never mind. _But then a gurgley baby-noise sounded once more, and Augusta knew that she had not been imagining things.

It was under a crushed baby crib that Augusta found her newborn grandson. "Oh, Neville!" she sobbed, clutching the tiny baby boy close to her heart. He giggled, grabbing her hair and pulling, blissfully unaware that he had just missed death by an inch; that something about him had aroused a tiny fraction of Voldemort's darkened heart. Little Neville knew nothing of the fact that at this very moment, people were praising his name.

Neville Longbottom would hence be known as the one who sent the Dark Lord away. For, although they searched, no one had ever glimpsed the sight of Lord Voldemort after the deaths of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

**A/N: I like to think that Voldy went off somewhere and experienced memory loss (I'm big on amnesia) and completely reformed, never remembering his fame as the evilest Dark Lord Wizarding society had ever seen. If you want to think something else…so be it.**

**As always, reviews are great! And if you liked this, read my other story, ****Imperfect****, 'cause I like that one even more!**


	2. Bellatrix had lived?

_What if…Bellatrix had lived?_

The Wizengamot knew they would regret releasing Bellatrix Lestrange. But nobody was able to resist when Draco Malfoy brought his newborn son, Scorpius, and pleaded on little Scorpy's behalf. "He needs to meet his family…_all _of it…please, I know she won't try to kill anyone or something…"

In the end, the resounding vote was that ten years in Azkaban was enough to make anyone reform. And Scorpius met his Aunty Bella.

A second imprisonment in Azkaban had done its toll on Bellatrix, but she wasn't about to show it. Days after her liberation, she marched haughtily into Malfoy Manor and said,

"Cissy. Lucius. _So _nice to meet you after all this time…I presume you have kept my things?"

"Bella, I know you've been released, but there's no reason why they can't go and haul you in again," Narcissa said, ignoring the question. "Don't go and do anything stupid that'll give them a reason to lock you up…No matter how much I hate you at times, I don't want you in Azkaban for a third stay."

Bellatrix barely heard any of this, and she continued, "I repeat, did you keep my things while I was…ah…_away?"_

Lucius waved her up the stairs and said curtly, "First door on the left. In the wooden trunk."

Bellatrix spent a very large amount of time upstairs; she was quite relieved to have access to a mirror at last. After she was satisfied that she looked beautifully evil and her hair was perfectly messy, she retrieved her wand (taken into "safekeeping" by her sister) from the bottom drawer and marched downstairs, taking care to stomp on every expensively-carpeted step.

Waving good-bye to her sister and brother-in-law, Bellatrix twirled dramatically, lowered her eyelids, and Apperated to the nearest Wizarding village. There was just one thing she wished to accomplish before returning to the Wizarding world…

Bellatrix stepped back, admiring her work. It was not as neat as she would have liked it, but she had not held a wand for ten years, and she had not been expecting miracles. It would have to do…for now.

The next morning, Muggles and Wizards alike were baffled by the strange banner that had appeared on the side of their Town Hall overnight. Narcissa, who had shown up to see what the kerfuffle was all about, sighed and thought, _She _still _never listens to me…if this isn't stupid, then I don't know what is._ The bold, blood-red letters proclaimed:

"_**DEATH EATERS…STILL GOING STRONG"**_

Try as they might, no one was able to remove it. But, then again, it wasn't called a Permanent Sticking Charm for nothing.

…**and they don't have a review box for nothing! Reviews are great!**


	3. Tom Riddle had died as a baby?

_What If…Tom Riddle died as a baby?_

"There, there, you're doing great, just one more push…"

I hear the words, but they have no connection to me. Why can't I just die now? I knew that this day would come someday, the day that my little baby—Tom—would be born.

But I never imagined it to be like this.

The kind orphanage matron speaks more words of encouragement, but I barely hear. I am slipping away; I know that I only have a few moments to live.

Suddenly, there is a great cheer, then gasps of shock. It is the last thing that touches my living ears before I am floating in a world of mistiness and sorrow. But I am not alone.

Hovering next to me is my newborn son, Tom. It seems that he lived no more than a few seconds.

The tiny gravestone reads: _Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr.: Born and died December 13, 1941. He never saw the world, but may his memory be seen by its citizens._

May every living person give thanks that their lifetime exceeded that of my baby.

**Love, Jemi**

**I really liked writing this, so I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much!**


	4. Voldemort lost his memory?

**This chapter is dedicated to Amanda Katrice Granger, who read and reviewed EVERY CHAPTER! Thanks! Hope you enjoy this one just as much!**

_What If…Voldemort lost his memory?_

**[I told you I was big on amnesia]**

One morning, in a dreary, bustling town just outside Surrey, passersby were shocked by a body, apparently human, littering the middle of their main street. It was unlike anyone the villagers had ever seen—bald, slits in place of a nose, deathly pale. Yet when someone was brave enough to approach, he confirmed that this person was, indeed, still alive.

There was a rush to alert medical assistance, but by the time the sirens sounded and several ambulances pulled up beside the growing crowd of people, this unknown person was conscious and walking around. The process of questioning began soon after this, not that it was much help to anyone. _Who are you, What is your name, What are you doing here, _and_ Are you okay _were all answered _I don't know_ in a strangely high, cold voice.

It seemed this man had no memory of…anything.

It was decided that the man needed a name, so a name he was given: Tom Highland, after a recently deceased member of the community. In order to help him regain health and, hopefully, memory, he was put in special care at the local hospital.

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione heard the news of a strange, bald man admitted to a mental hospital nearby, they wrote a letter addressed to a hospital matron, asking for regular updates on their newest patient's health. Unsurprisingly, it was unchanged, as their last resort after being unable to kill this enemy was a very powerful Memory Charm and speedy removal to the nearest Muggle town.

The hospital sent weekly, and, later, monthly updates, but Voldemort had no recollections of the formidable Dark Lord he once was. It seemed that Tom Highland (Harry thought the first name to be highly ironic) was here to stay.

**As always, reviews would be amazing! Thanks for reading!**

**-Jemi**


	5. Luna's mother had lived?

_What If…Luna's mother lived?_

"Love you, my Luna…don't let the other kids get you down. Be true to yourself…and watch out for Wrackspurts."

Luna smiled at her mother and replied, "Are you and Dad planning on going on that holiday to Sweden? To find the Crumple-Horned Snorkack?"

Astrid Lovegood returned her daughter's smile, wondering how she had found out about their secret planning, and told her, "Dad and I…have decided to postpone it until Christmas."

Luna's blue eyes widened, stretching them even larger than their previously large size. "But…doesn't that mean I must stay at Hogwarts?"

"No, Luna darling. You see…you are coming with us."

Luna's gaze brightened, and she pushed back a few. "Oh, Mummy! I love you too."

Astrid loosened the hug that she had wrapped around Luna and said, "Better go now. You don't want to miss the train!"

"Bye, Mummy…Watch out for Wrackspurts. And send Hestia* if you capture that Blibbering Humdinger in our backyard!"

By now she had to shout to be heard. Astrid watched Luna hesitantly step onto the Hogwarts Express, looking like the image of her at eleven, and murmured, "I couldn't ask for a better daughter."

**Love, Jemi**

**This one isn't my best, but I hope you like it anyway. Remember to review!**

***I decided the Lovegoods needed an owl.**

**P.S. If you read my profile carefully you might be able to find out why I named Luna's mother 'Astrid.'**

**P.P.S. I need more ideas for What If…s! Include them in reviews or PM me. Thanks!**


	6. Voldemort won?

_What If…Voldemort won?_

We stand here, broken, beaten. They torture us, our family, our friends. There are too many dead on the ground to distinguish where the blood-splattered dirt shows through anymore.

Harry. Ron. Hermione. Luna. Neville. Ginny. George. Fred. Percy. Bill. Tonks. Lupin. Colin. Dennis. Cho. Padma. Hannah. Susan. McGonagall. Slughorn. Molly. Seamus. Augusta. The list continues, and more are added to it every second.

Every second, Voldemort and his followers cast another Killing Curse.

Every second, someone else falls.

Hagrid, who died protecting Fang, who was struck the next moment. Sprout, who fell after several minutes of furious spell-casting. Ernie, who lost a duel with Macnair. Xenophilius, who stumbled and slipped away, quietly, on the ground, dreaming of his dear wife.

When Harry died, our resistance crumbled. They broke through our defenses like scissors slicing paper and picked us off, one by one. Though our wands were sharp and our brains calculating, they bested us, for they possessed more experience, more skill, more allies.

Charlie, who was powerless against Roldolphus.

Lucius, who was killed for traitorous actions, by the Dark Lord himself.

Wood, whose persistence was his demise, as he continually fought and finally lost.

We can only wait in anticipation of our turn to leave this world. Then, finally, we may be in a place yet untouched by the malice of Lord Voldemort.

**Love, Jemi**

**This one made me so sad. I'm all depressed now so I'm not even going to say something bubbly about reviews. (Although they would be appreciated)**


	7. Ron never returned?

**This chapter is for Natsushi and ginnyandharryluvr for all the ideas they gave me! Enjoy this one, it's all thanks to you that it exists!**

_What If…Ron never returned?_

It's been a month since Ron left, and today it finally happened. Although we had prepared ourselves for the moment, neither Harry nor I believed it would actually occur.

"_And now we will list those unfortunate souls, the ones who have died since our last report…"_

The names blurred together; I honestly couldn't tell you any of them. And then…

"…_Ron Weasley, murdered by unknown Death Eaters…"_

No. Oh no no no no…

This can't be happening. And suddenly, it isn't…

…I am eleven years old, bushy-haired and naïve, pushing open the door of Ron's compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

"_Has anyone seen a toad?"_

His eyes were so blue, albeit narrowed in annoyance at me, and even as I looked at his shabby appearance in disdain, I could feel myself falling for him. There was nothing that I wanted more than to be with Ron Weasley, ever since that first moment on the train.

"_Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!"_

Ron…all the memories that we shared, all the experiences we lived through…_together_…

…now I am in third year, and I have just punched that idiotic git, Malfoy…

"_Not good, brilliant…"_

He complimented me…he thought I was _brilliant_…we were meant to live the rest of our lives _together_, the perfect couple, brilliant _together_…someday we would have children, _together…_

…Ron and I are sitting in the common room, and I see at once that this is not another scene of blissful happiness…

"_Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon…"_

Why was I always emphasizing his mistakes, pointing out his flaws? I loved him for who he was, including the flawed parts. If we only had a few more minutes in each other's arms, I could have apologized for all the times I called him emotionless, or senseless, or insensitive…

…I have come to sixth year, looking at my Ron snogging Lavender Brown…but all along he wanted me…

…Ron's hand is held limply in mine; he is unconscious, having just mistakenly been served poisoned mead…on his birthday…

"_Her…my…nee…"_

…We are at Bill and Fleur's wedding, a ray of sunshine in the dark times, and we are all looking so happy…Ron is glaring angrily at Viktor…why had I even hinted at more than friendship between us? It was him I wanted, always Ron…I chose red hair over black…

Suddenly, I feel the strangest sense, like Ron is next to me, reliving the recollections alongside me. I turn my head, and…he is.

Violently red hair, crystal-blue eyes, freckled face…

With no hesitation, I grab his arms and pull him closer, pressing my lips onto his. We stay locked in each other for a long time, and when we break apart, he says,

"Hey, Hermione."

"Did it…did it hurt?" I do not elaborate, but I know he can tell what I'm talking of.

"Not at all…you could do it right now, without any troubles…"

There is nothing I ever wanted more than to be with Ron forever. I let my life leave my body, feeling an oddly unsettling sensation, knowing that my heart beats no longer.

Finally, I can be with Ron, together.

Forever.

**Love forever, Jemi**

**Hope you enjoyed! Remember to review!**


	8. Petunia was a witch?

**Thanks to ginnyandharryluvr for the idea! **

_What If…Petunia was a witch?_

"Tuney! Tuney! C'mon!" squealed Lily, her red hair streaming down her back, smiling widely.

The older girl, Petunia, looked fondly at her younger sister and replied, "You're going to love Hogwarts, Lily. It's so amazing! The staircases change, and the classes are fun, and you get to learn magic…"

She trailed off, leaving Lily's evergreen eyes shining with excitement. Then a thought struck her. "Tuney…what if I'm not in Ravenclaw like you?"

"That's okay. The Sorting Hat will put you where you're supposed to be." Petunia smiled at the look of relief that crossed Lily's face.

Lily smiled at her older sister, already dressed in her pristinely ironed robes, the coordinating blue-and-bronze Ravenclaw tie pulled into a neatly-tied knot. _She looks so confident, _Lily thought. She hoped that one day, she would be able to look the same.

Unknown to the two sisters, a small, dark figure watched from the shadows. He was not paying attention to the dark-haired Petunia, his eyes fixated dreamily on Lily Evans. He wanted Lily Evans, and Lily Evans alone.

_If only her sister wasn't a witch…_

Several years later, Petunia had gained a cold, hard edge that only subsided for Lily. It was on the day that Petunia announced her love for a Muggle man, Vernon Dursley (who had somehow convinced her to shun magic), that Lily and Petunia's relationship lost the intense love that they had created as children, riding the Hogwarts Express together.

For one person, this was a good thing. At last, Petunia was out of the way, and he was able to be with Lily, and Lily alone.

**Love, **

**Jemi**


	9. Harry was in Slytherin?

_What If…Harry was a Slytherin?_

_Not Slytherin, not Slytherin… _Harry thought in desperation.

"Are you sure?" the hat responded. "You could be great in Slytherin…in fact, you _will _be great in SLYTHERIN!"

There was an uproar of tumultuous applause and as Harry took his place at the green-and-silver-decorated table, right across from Draco Malfoy. The pale, blond-haired boy leaned over the table and whispered,

"It seems I underestimated you, Potter. If you're in Slytherin…well, you can't be all that bad."

Harry glanced at Ron, who was staring at him murderously. Oh well…if he wouldn't be friends with Slytherins, that was his problem. Sure, they had shared a few amiable moments on the train, but it was clear now that that friendliness had finished. It wasn't like it was a big deal or anything.

ONE YEAR LATER…

News of the death of the Weasley's youngest child, Ginevra, spread like wildfire. Her body was never found, proving the cryptic message daubed on a corrider wall,

"_HER SKELETON SHALL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER"_

Harry felt only a tiny twinge of regret. He couldn't help but wonder if recent events would have turned out differently if he had been a friend to the Weasleys. But he only ever did wonder.

He is still wondering.


	10. Harry's Death was by Killing Curse?

**Thanks to Natsushi, who gave me this idea, and my other wonderful reviewers, Amanda Katrice Granger and ginnyandharryluvr! Love you guys! This is a sort of prequel to chapter six, What If…Voldemort won the war?**

_What If…Harry was killed by Voldemort's Killing Curse?_

"_Avadad Kedavra!"_

The fateful words were spoken as a streak of blindingly bright green light arced from Lord Voldemort's wand and hit Harry square in the chest. He crumpled, hitting the ground like a floppy, limp doll, head lolling and green eyes wide open. There was no fear in those eyes, however; the face of the head of the resistance looked calm and serene.

The death of their leader brought about an outcry of weeping sobs, cries of defiance. This was greeted by several Silencing Charms at the hands of the Death Eaters, none of whom could see the events playing out in Harry's head…

He was lying in a bright white complex. No one else was visible for miles of shockingly clean surroundings, except…

The indistinct figure of Albus Dumbledore was approaching him. "Professor," Harry said, profoundly shocked.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, bowing his head slightly. "Oh, Harry, you brave, wonderful boy. Come, let us walk."

Dumbledore went into a long-winded description of Dark Lords and Horcruxes, to which Harry listened intently. But his mind was halfway in the peace of this great white station. There was no Voldemort to worry about, no Horcruxes to hunt, no nagging Death Eaters around every corner, waiting to bestow the killing blow on an unsuspecting victim, such as himself. It would be easy, his body was already physically dead…

Dumbledore seemed to read through his emerald eyes. "Harry, it's your choice…"

But Harry's mind was set. No matter what happened on the land of the living, that was no longer his world. He closed his eyes and drifted into a sort of hibernation, calmly sleeping on the floor of his mind.

Outside his brain, his body mirrored the action. Finally, he was free…

**Love, Jemi**

**For my next chapter, I want something funny and/or fluffy, not containing main character deaths. Please send me ideas! Thanks!**


	11. Fred and George: Eternal New Moon

**I needed to write something…this doesn't really have a what-if title, but it's a Fred-and-George-what-if-he-had-done-something-differently. I hope you enjoy!**

**To Guest reviewer: I asked Amber to give me a con-crit review like that, so you don't need to hurt anyone. I accepted her suggestions, but I left my chapter mostly unchanged because I wanted it to sound like my voice, not hers. Thanks for the double-review, anyway!**

* * *

He could have died instead. But it was his beautiful Fred; Fred, who was left lying on the cracked cobblestone floor like a broken doll, arms splayed and staring without seeing. He could have leapt in the way; he could have pushed his twin out of harm; he could have avoided this desolate situation. Though that was not how the war played out: the world worked in strange ways, and he seemed to be at the center of a circle of unfairly tragic events.

He and Fred were a package deal: if you chose one, another came along. Now, he felt like half of what was before—one half of a deal, one half of a relationship, one half of a pair of twins.

If Fred was the sun, he was the moon; he only shined because it was Fred shining through him. And now his life was an eternal new moon without the identical face providing the light—the happiness—of his existence.

Pairs were meant to be together. It seemed that it was no longer the case for one red-haired man, who lost part of himself at the expiration of his brother.

* * *

**I thought I was on hiatus…guess not.**


	12. Remus knew the truth?

_November 3, 1981_

The headline proclaimed that he was a murderer. Every inch of the article was dedicated to proving that he was no more than a savage animal, a fiendish beast hardly worthy of life. _Lies,_ thought Remus, staring at the obituary of Peter Pettigrew: even that was completely and utterly untrue. Lost in his thoughts, Remus was taken back to a scene just a few hours earlier, when he had plunged his face into the Pensieve and experienced the memory that had been so hard to proffer.

_In a dimly-lit room, two figures were barely discernible from the dark stone walls that surrounded them. The pale, faintly-glowing one, who was seated in an armchair with a snake circling its way around his neck, spoke first._

"_And they suspect nothing?"_

"_N-nothing, my Lord. They have put their f-faith in me."_

_This short, plump figure had a distinctly recognizable voice. Even if Remus had not been able to see the person, he knew the speaker's identity well: it was none other than the recently-honored (and apparently dead) Peter Pettigrew; both titles, Remus now knew, were undeserved._

"_And, Wormtail, has your plan for escape been detailed?"_

"_Y-yes, my Lord. Black will be in Azkaban, and I will be thought dead very soon…"_

The scene had evaporated there, and Remus felt as if he had been at least partially awoken from a nightmare-ridden sleep. He was now certain that Sirius Black, former friend and current Azkaban prisoner, was not guilty of the charges pressed against him: this was proof that it had been Peter, not Sirius, who had given crucial evidence to the Dark Lord.

A stroke of good fortune had greeted Remus earlier that day: unbeknownst to the speakers, one other had glimpsed this scene. The unfortunate news was that it was none other than Severus Snape, known Death Eater and eavesdropper extraordinaire, plus holder of a notorious grudge against the Marauders. Though his most intense dislike was towards his childhood tormentor, James Potter, Snape had never enjoyed the company of Remus. It had taken quite some effort to convince his old enemy to give him access to something this precious, but he had done it: years of lycanthropy made a person tougher, more tenacious.

Shaking himself back into the present, Remus stared solemnly at the photo of one of his best friends gesturing wildly from the front of the _Daily Prophet_; his hair matted, silently screaming with rage, Sirius looked worse than Remus had ever seen. But Remus was sure that this "madman" was not a murderer.

Since Lily and James had died, it was hard to live with the pain of this loss. Still, he reflected, there was hope to be seen. The circumstances in which he was clueless to Sirius' innocence and Peter's betrayal would have been much less desirable, he decided, his thoughts turning back to the miracle of Harry Potter's survival.

Yes, indeed, hope was just over the horizon.


End file.
